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And this our life,
exempt from public haunt,
finds tongues in trees,
books in running brooks,
sermons in stones,
and good in everything.
~William Shakespeare

Standing beneath the Shumard Red Oak made me feel like I was standing in a temple of the Most High. The breeze was ruffling its leaves, and they in turn were prompting sacred tongues to utter incantations of their divine purpose. For though the leaves face eminent extinction and expulsion from the branches, in their dying they’ll fall and create warm blankets to cover the ground. In so doing they will protect the life that lies beneath the surface during winter’s cold, cold days. Even at the close of winter their goodness will not be at an end for as they deteriorate, the remaining bits and pieces will add nutrients to enhance the soil. Thus goes the circle of life and the interdependency of all…

Had Lewis Theobald unearthed the holy grail of literary scholarship, a lost Shakespeare play? Or was he boldly conning the public with a forgery?

Theobald always maintained that he had worked from an authentic manuscript, but he did not include the play in his subsequent edition of Shakespeare’s complete works. What accounts for this seeming inconsistency?